


Sing-a-Long II

by StBridget



Series: Guardian [11]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e12 Screwdriver, Established Relationship, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, Ghosts, Good versus Evil, Heavy Angst, Hiking, Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Police, Prison, Stranded, Supernatural Elements, iPod Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: iPod shuffle challenge--set iPod to random and write a story for each of the first 10 songs that come up.Split between Hawaii Five-0 and MacGyver.McDanno and Mac/Jack in some but not all chapters.Overall rated T.  Ratings will vary by chapter.See chapter summary for information on each.Ch. 9 is part of the Guardian series; a recap is included





	1. Different

**Author's Note:**

> Characters, songs, and shows are property of their respective owners.
> 
> I had so much fun doing this last year, I decided to do it again. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 1:  
> Song: Different  
> Artist: John McCutcheon  
> Fandom: Hawaii Five-0  
> Relationship: If you really want it to be, McDanno, but otherwise, none  
> Rating: G

“Mom wants to talk to you.”  Grace held her phone out to Danny who was in the kitchen gathering snacks for their day at Steve’s.  Sure, Steve was more than willing to stock the kids’ favorites, but Danny didn’t want to impose any more than he already was. 

Danny shoved the phone away.  “Tell her I’m not here.”  He was in a good mood, ready to spend the day with his three favorite people.  He didn’t want what was likely to be a fight with his ex to ruin it.

“I already told her you were,” Grace said.

“Tell her I just stepped out.  Tell her I’m taking things to the car.”

“She’ll just wait until you come back.”

“Tell her anyway,” Danny insisted.  “Maybe she’ll get mad and hang up.”

“Danno,” Grace said, exasperated, “do you want me to lie for you?”

Danny picked up the insulated bag with the snacks.  “It’s not a lie.  I’m going now.”

“Danno!”

Danny grabbed the phone.  “Sorry, Rachel, I’m busy,” he said, then hung up.  He handed the phone back to Grace.  “Happy now?”

Charlie was looking at him, wide-eyed.  “Did you just lie to Mommy?”

“No, Charlie, I didn’t,” Danny said at the same time Grace said “Yes.”

“You’re not supposed to lie, Danno,” Charlie said, seriously.

“Sometimes you have to, buddy,” Danny said.

“So, when is it okay to lie?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, Danno, when is it okay?” Grace echoed, tone sharp.

“For you, never.  For grown-ups, it’s different.”

“Why?” Charlie asked.

Danny didn’t know what to say to that.  “Let’s go.  We shouldn’t keep Uncle Steve waiting,” he said instead.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

When they got to Steve’s, the SEAL wasn’t around.  “He’s probably taking one of his ridiculous 20 mile swims,” Danny said.  “You two go ahead while I put the snacks away.”  They ran off without further prompting.  “Just don’t get in the water until Uncle Steve or I get there!” he hollered after them.  He felt better for saying it, even if he wasn’t sure they heard.

Danny put the food away and followed the kids outside.  Sure enough, Steve’s towel was draped on one of the chairs.  Danny could see a small dot out on the water heading towards shore.  Steve, he was sure.  He turned his attention to the kids.  Grace was standing by what appeared to be the remains of a fire.  Beer cans, food wrappers, and things Danny hoped his kids had no idea what they were were scattered around.  “Dammit, this is supposed to be a private beach.”

“Danno, you said a bad word!” Charlie said.  “You owe a quarter for the swear jar.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Danny apologized.  “I just hate it when people leave their trash strewn about.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie agreed, bobbing his blond head.  “Don’t they know they’re supposed to pick up after themselves?”

“Apparently not,” Danny said, disgusted.

“Are their parents going to ground them?” Charlie wanted to know.

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Because teenagers think the rules don’t apply to them, and their parents probably don’t know.”  Grace looked offended.  “Not you, Monkey.  I know you’d never do this.”

Grace gingerly held up a condom, used by the look of it.  “Eww, gross.  Who’d want to have sex on the beach?  Doesn’t sand get in inappropriate places?”

Danny would laugh at how much like him she sounded if he wasn’t appalled—whether at the kids who did it or Grace for knowing what a condom was he wasn’t sure, but he supposed it really did’t matter.  He snatched the offending item from Grace.  “Give me that.  How do you even know what that is?”  Grace opened her mouth to answer.  Danny cut her off.  “Never mind.  I don’t want to know.”

“What is it?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Danny said.  “Like 30.”

Steve came up just then, toweling his hair dry.  He must have gotten back while they were talking.  The SEAL took one look at the mess.  “I’ll get a trash bag,” he said, turning to go.

Danny caught a glimpse of something as Steve turned.  “Hold on a minute.”  Danny grabbed Steve’s chin and turned it towards him, forcing Steve to look at him even though the SEAL resisted.  “Care to tell me why you have a black eye, Steven?”

“Did you get it chasing a bad guy?” Charlie asked, eagerly.

Steve looked embarrassed.  “Um, no.”

“Tell me you got it sparring,” Danny said.

“Um, no.”  Steve tried to look away, but Danny wouldn’t let him.

“Steven, did you get into a bar fight?” Danny asked.

Steve dropped his eyes.  “Maybe.”

Danny went into full rant mode.  “Steven, you’re a respected member of law enforcement.  You can’t go getting into bar fights!”

“Yeah, Uncle Steve,” Charlie agreed.  “Fighting’s bad.”

“This big brute was picking on a couple just because they were the same sex.  I couldn’t let him get away with it!” Steve defended himself.

“No, but you could have tried talking to them, or called the police, or, if you absolutely had to get involved, which, knowing you, you did, you could have arrested him yourself,” Danny said.

Steve squirmed.  “I didn’t think of that.”

“No, you probably didn’t,” Danny said.

“Are you going to ground Uncle Steve?” Charlie asked.  “You grounded me when I pushed Kai on the playground because he said two men can’t love each other.”

“I should,” Danny said.

“You can’t do that!” Steve protested.

“You heard Charlie,” Danny said.  “I can’t let you get away with it when I didn’t let him.”

“You’re not my dad!”

Danny sighed.  “Sometimes I feel like it.”  He thought for a minute.  “No driving my car for a week.”  He turned to the kids.  “Does that sound fair?”

They both nodded, solemnly.  “Yes, Danno.”

“No, Danno,” Steve said.

“Nobody asked you,” Danny told him.

“That’s not fair,” Steve pouted.

Danny patted him on the shoulder.  “That’s what you get for getting into fights.  You should have thought of that before you threw a punch.”  Danny rubbed his hands together.  “Now, who wants to go swimming?”

“Me, me!” both kids said.  They ran off, leaving Steve on the beach pouting.

“But it’s different!” he hollered after them.  No one listened.


	2. Gunpowder and Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Gunpowder and Lead  
> Artist: Miranda Lambert  
> Fandom: Hawaii Five-0  
> Relationship: None  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard. It was clearly H50, but they just did the episode with Danny and the abusive husband, and I didn't want to copy that. So, I got the bright idea to use Duke. Hope it isn't too out of character.

She stood in the darkened doorway, gun in one hand, cigarette in the other, peering down the gravel road. She checked her watch. Three hours. That’s how long it had been since Sgt. Lukela had come to pick up her husband—again.

 

“Third time this month,” he said. “Ma’am, I thought you filed a restraining order.”

 

She held the icepack he’d given her to her bruised cheek. “I did. I told you it wouldn’t help.”

 

Duke clicked the cuffs into place and shoved her husband out the door. “It’s not nice to go violating a restraining order.”

 

“That bitch is my wife,” her husband spat. “You can’t keep me away from what’s mine.”

 

“We’ll see what a judge has to say about that,” Duke said.

 

She touched Duke on his arm. “Please, can’t you keep him locked up this time?” she pleaded.

 

Duke looked at her, sympathetically. “I’ll try, ma’am, but it’s up to a judge.”

 

“I’ll press charges,” she said. Anything to keep that bastard locked up. She was through being his punching bag.

 

“I know, ma’am. We’ll be in touch.” With that, Duke left, husband in tow.

 

Three hours ago. Duke had called her an hour ago to let her know her husband had made bail. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. She just thanked him, hung up, loaded her gun, and waited.

 

And waited. Lights appeared on the road. Looked like the wait was over.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Duke followed the cab at a discreet distance. He had a bad feeling about this. This guy was bad news. His wife was trying her hardest to get away from him—she’d kicked him out, pressed charges, filing a restraining order, but the guy cleaned up well, swore he wouldn’t do it again, and got let off with a slap on the wrist every time. Duke had a feeling his wife’s patience with the system wouldn’t last much longer.

 

Duke parked at the end of the drive. He noted the shadowy form in the doorway, the glow of a cigarette, and a long, unmistakable shape hanging down the figure’s side. Yeah, things were going to get bad, alright. Duke wondered if he should intervene now. It really wasn’t his place. It might also just make things worse when her husband got let out, again. Maybe Duke should let it play out. It went against his oath, but so did letting innocent women get beat up by monsters.

 

Duke saw the cab door open, a figure step out, and the door slam. The cab’s headlights illuminated the scene briefly, enough to confirm the figure at the door was, indeed, the wife with a shotgun. The glow highlighted the looming figure of her husband as he stalked towards the door, gravel crunching under heavy boots—Duke couldn’t hear it, but he could imagine it.

 

The scene went dark again as the cab turned around and headed back down the drive. Duke was blinded as the cab passed. He held up his arm to shield his eyes and almost missed what happened next.

 

The cab wasn’t even out of sight when the shot rang out.

 

Duke got out of the car and made his way up the drive, hand on his gun. He didn’t hurry—he figured there probably wasn’t a need at this point.

 

The sergeant wasn’t surprised by the sight that greeted him. The husband was sprawled on the floor, a gaping hole such as one would expect from a shotgun at close range in his chest. The wife was standing over him, gun still in her shaking hands, blood dripping from her mouth. She was pale but determined.

 

Duke bent down to feel for a pulse on the fallen form, never taking his eyes off the wife. Not surprisingly, he didn’t find one. He rose and addressed her. “What happened ma’am?”

 

She wiped her mouth with an unsteady hand. “I shot him,” she said, sounding dazed. Then, “I shot him,” she said again, firmer.

 

“I’m going to have to take you in,” Duke told her.

 

“I know.” She set the gun on the floor and put her hands behind her, back to Duke. The cop fastened the cuffs on her as gently as he could and led her past her husband’s still body. She spat on it as she went by.

 

“I showed you what this little girl’s made of. I’m not some ragdoll you can toss around. I’m made of gunpowder and lead, you son of a bitch.”

 

Duke hoped the judge went easy on her.


	3. With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm  
> Artist: Kingston Trio  
> Fandom: MacGyver  
> Relationship: None  
> Rating: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up a lot more history than I intended, but it was fun to read up on, and I barely scratched the surface! Source was Arthur Richard Jones' Ghosts of the Tower of London Walking Tour (http://www.walksoflondon.co.uk/49/index.shtml). Now I want to go back and do this tour!

The door creaked open as the clock chimed midnight. A weak beam of light shone out, as made, perhaps, by a flashlight covered in cloth. The light was gripped in a black clad arm. It swept back and forth before winking out. A body eased slowly out of the supply closet, closely followed by another.

 

“All clear,” a man’s voice rang out.

 

The smaller figure placed a hand over the larger’s mouth. “Shh, Jack,” another voice whispered, “they’ll hear you.”

 

The taller figure shoved the hand away. “Relax, Mac,” “Jack” said. “There’s no one here.”

 

“How do you know?” “Mac” countered, voice still low.

 

“If someone was here, we’d hear them,” Jack stated.

 

“Not if they’re being quiet, like we should be,” Mac hissed.

 

Jack sighed. “Relax, Mac. You know me better than that. I counted when we did our sweep before closing. Everyone who was here left. And if anybody came in after that, Riley would have caught them on the infrared.” He touched his earpiece. “Any activity, Riles?”

 

“Riley’s” voice echoed in his ear. “All clear, Jack.”

 

“See?” Jack said. “If they’re going to show, it’s not going to be tonight.”

 

“It’s still early,” Mac pointed out. “And our Intel’s solid. There’s an Irish terrorist group after the Crown Jewels. We have to stop them, no matter how long it takes.”

 

“But this is boring,” Jack whined. “How long do we have to wait?”

 

“Until dawn if we have to,” Mac said. “Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled. This is the most haunted site in London, maybe one of the top in the world.”

 

Jack brightened. “Hey, that’s right! Do you know how many people died here?”

 

It was Mac’s turn to sigh. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

 

“Hell, yeah. I read up on it before we came. Even printed out a tour. I was hoping we’d get a chance to do it while we scoped it out, but somebody hustled me into a supply closet.” Jack glared balefully at Mac.

 

Mac rolled his eyes. “Sorry to spoil your fun, Jack.”

 

“That’s okay, we can do it now,” Jack said. “Think how much spookier it will be at night.”

 

“Great,” Mac said, dryly. “I can hardly wait.”

 

Jack ignored the sarcasm, pulling out the flashlight and consulting his map. Mac batted the light away. “Turn it off!”

 

Having gotten his bearings (and definitely not because Mac told him to), Jack turned off the light.

He led the way back to the battlements and pointed up. “People have heard footsteps pacing back and forth, like a guard on duty, but there’s no one there,” Jack said, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Why are you whispering?” Mac asked in an equally low voice.

 

“So we don’t disturb the ghosts,” Jack said in his best “duh” voice.

 

Mac was incredulous. “You’ll lower your voice for ghosts, but not terrorists?”

 

“The ghosts are here. The terrorists aren’t,” Jack pointed out.

 

“I don’t see any ghosts, either!” Mac said, voice rising.

 

Now it was Jack’s turn to put a hand over his partner’s mouth. “Shhh. Show them some respect.”

 

Mac snapped at Jack’s hand, causing the older man to remove it. “As soon as I meet a ghost, I’ll be sure to be respectful,” Mac said, but he did drop his voice to a whisper.

 

Jack looked doubtful, but he held his tongue. He motioned Mac to follow him to Wakefield Tower. They wound up a series of staircases. The air grew thicker and colder with every step, causing the two men to shiver (Mac could have given a lecture on the properties of stone in affecting temperature, but if Jack wanted to think it was ghosts, who was Mac to tell him any different?)

 

They reached the top and found themselves in a room with a small altar. “Here’s where Richard III murdered Henry VI at midnight on May 21, 1471,” Jack said.

 

Mac peered into the dark. “I don’t see anything.”

 

“He only walks on the anniversary of his death,” Jack said. “Too bad we missed it.”

 

“Yeah, too bad,” Mac said, drolly. “What’s next?” He didn’t want to admit he was rather enjoying this. The darkness and the dampness certainly added atmosphere, and Jack was a good storyteller as he rattled off facts about all the various ghostly denizens of the tower. Mac followed him up and down more dark, twisty stairways and listened as Jack spun tale after ghostly tale.

 

They ended up back in the courtyard. Jack pointed at a dark brick house with a blue door. “That’s where Lady Jane Grey, the Nine Day Queen, was imprisoned.”

 

“I’ve heard of her,” Mac said.

 

Jack motioned to the next building. “That’s the Queen’s House. Now, it’s the Governor’s house, but it’s where Anne Boleyn was held captive.”

 

“Anne of a Thousand Days,” Mac said. “Good movie.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “She’s probably the most often sighted.” His eyes lit up. “Maybe we’ll see her.”

 

Mac snorted. “I doubt it. Ghosts aren’t even real, Jack.” Though here, in the darkness at midnight, Mac could almost believe they were. He turned away, ready to go back to their vigil.

 

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Jack stayed where he was, peering into the gloom as if he could conjure the ghost if he just concentrated hard enough. He was rewarded with a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. “Look!”

 

“It’s probably just a curtain,” Mac said, but he did turn around. He stared in astonishment as a figure clad in white slowly materialized. There was a gaping wound at the neck where the head should be. “I’ll be damned,” Mac breathed.

 

“Oh, my god, it’s really Anne Boleyn!” Jack cried, tickled. “I can’t believe it!”

 

“Neither can I,” Mac said.

 

Jack elbowed his partner in the ribs. “Now, do you believe ghosts are real?”

 

Mac blinked, and the figure disappeared. “I guess I have to.”

 

Just then, Riley’s voice sounded in their ears. “I’ve got movement coming your way. Two figures.”

 

“Maybe they’re more ghosts,” Jack said, eagerly.

 

“Sorry, Jack, these are definitely human,” Riley said.

 

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, disappointed.

 

“Pretty sure,” Riley confirmed. “Last time I checked, ghosts don’t have heat signatures.”

 

Jack had to admit she was right. “Alright, let’s get to work.” He cast one last, longing look at the Queen’s House, then turned away. Just like that, he was all business, the eager kid replaced by the consummate soldier, leaving Anne Boleyn behind to walk with her head tucked underneath her arm.

 


	4. Something to Sing About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Something to Sing About  
> Artist: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Once More with Feeling  
> Fandom: MacGyver  
> Relationship: None  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really hard. I decided to focus on the depression aspect, which led me to reasons to despair, which led me to Riley. I hope you enjoy this little insight into her time in prison and Diane's perspective.
> 
> I don't think we ever learned what Riley did. In my head, she killed someone, but in the heat of the moment, not cold blood, and I'm sure they deserved it.

Riley shuffled into the visitation room and threw herself into the chair across from her mother. She picked up the phone to talk across the Plexiglas barrier between them. “What do you want?” she snarled.

Diane was taken aback by her daughter’s hostility. “Can’t I just come by to say hello?”

“Mom, I’m in a maximum security prison. No one ‘just comes by to say hello’,” Riley countered.

“I do,” Diane replied. Riley just stared at her. The older woman sighed. “I haven’t seen you since the trial. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Peachy,” Riley said, sarcastically.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” Diane snapped.

“Sorry for not being all happy and bubbly,” Riley said, tone still dripping with hostility, “but I’m kind of locked up here. Doesn’t give me a lot to be happy about.”

Diane kept trying. “Are you making friends?”

Riley gaped at her. “Really, Mom? Friends?”

“Well, are you?” Diane pressed.

“No, Mom, I’m kind of too busy trying to stay alive to make friends,” Riley said. Just what kind of place did her mom think she was in? These people didn’t want to make friends; Riley was just grateful none of them wanted to kill her.

“Surely, there’s some nice people in here,” Diane said, determined to see some good in the situation.

Riley couldn’t believe how naive her mother was being. “Mom, this is prison. We’re a bunch of criminals. There’s people in here who have killed in cold blood. Including me.”

“It wasn’t in cold blood,” Diane said. “The jury agreed.”

“I still killed someone,” Riley said, “and I’d do it again.”

Diane wished she could reach out and hold her daughter’s hand, offer love and comfort, but the barrier between them prevented it. “You’re still a good person.”

Riley looked her mother in the eye. “Am I?” The girl’s eyes were cold, but Diane could see through them to her soul, and she knew there was good in there.

“Yes, you are,” Diane insisted. “You just did what you had to do.”

“Just don’t tell anyone here that,” Riley said.

“I’ll tell anyone who asks,” Diane said, “because it’s true. Surely the other women can see that.”

Riley gave a hollow laugh. “I sure as hell hope not.”

“I’m sure they do,” Diane insisted.

Riley leaned forward, face hard. “No, Mom, you don’t understand. They can’t. If they think I’m not hard and ruthless like them, they’ll kill me. My survival depends on them thinking I’m tougher than they are. You might think I’m still a good person, but trust me, in here, that’s the last thing I want to be.”

Diane digested her words. It was hard to reconcile the sweet little girl she’d raised with this hard, angry woman. Diane wasn’t sure she recognized her own daughter. She was sure, though, that beneath that tough exterior beat a warm heart. She’d just have to hold onto that, even if Riley didn’t—couldn’t-- believe it herself. “I still love you,” she said.

Riley’s voice softened just a little. “I know. I love you too.” She was suddenly vulnerable, and Diane caught just a glimpse of the girl she once knew. “Come see me again?”

“Of course,” Diane assured her. “I’ll write, too. And I’ll be waiting.” She’d wait as long as it took. She had to remain positive, had to believe one day, Riley would be smiling, warm, and loving again, not this stranger prison had made her into.

The guard signaled the visit was up, and Riley rose. “Goodbye, Mom.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Diane said.

The guard led Riley back to her cell. Riley would never admit it, but her mother’s visit had warmed her. Maybe things weren’t so bleak after all.


	5. Lover's Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Lover’s Cross  
> Artist: Jim Croce  
> Fandom: MacGyver  
> Relationship: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver, past Nikki Carpenter/Angus MacGyver  
> Episode: 1.11 Screwdriver  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, one I had plotted already! And, I can get in a little Mac/Jack! ;) Didn't turn out as long as I'd hoped, but I rather like it. Hope you do, too!

It was time to say goodbye, again. The hits just kept coming—Nikki’s death, finding out she was alive, her betrayal, her working with the CIA. Now, she’d just announced she was going back undercover. Mac wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

 

“Come with me,” Nikki said.

 

Mac couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”

 

“Come with me,” Nikki repeated. “Together, we can take them down. It’ll be great.”

 

She had to be kidding. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Why not?” Nikki pouted.

 

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Mac said. “They know who I am. I’ll never be able to infiltrate them.”

 

“We’ll say you’ve decided to join them, give up your secrets to help them,” Nikki said.

 

Mac snorted. “Yeah, like they’ll believe that.” Mac would never betray Phoenix, even in name only, even to take down the Organization. Nikki should know that.

 

Nikki stepped closer and ran a finger across Mac’s collar bone. “We’ll say you did it to be with me.”

 

Mac shoved her away, disgusted that she could think something like that. “I don’t think so. I’d never betray my country to be with a woman. Even you. Especially not you.”

 

Nikki looked hurt. “Why not? I thought we had something good.”

 

“The operative word is _had_ ,” Mac said. “You threw that away when let them shoot me and leave me for dead.”

 

“What about last night?” Nikki asked.

 

“A moment of weakness.” Mac had kissed her hoping to remember what they’d had. He’d been upset because Sarah and Jack were having a moment, and he wasn’t really thinking clearly. Mac had known as soon as he kissed Nikki whatever they’d had was gone. He’d moved on, and he wasn’t going back.

 

“So, what, it all meant nothing?” she pressed.

 

Mac had had it with her. He’d danced to her tune for so long, tried so hard to be what she wanted him to be, and in the end he’d ended up nearly fatally wounded while Nikki had “defected”. Even if it hadn’t been real, she’d risked it all on the assumption he’d save the day. Mac didn’t want that kind of pressure, and he certainly didn’t want to be on that pedestal. “No, I loved you, before, but I realized I’m not the man you think I am.”

 

“What do you mean? You can take on the world, I have faith in you,” Nikki said.

 

“See, that’s the thing,” Mac said. “I’m not a hero, and I’m certainly not a martyr. I’m just a man trying to do the best he can. I’m human, and I can fail. You have to understand that.”

 

“Have confidence,” she said. “You can do this. We can do this. We can take them down.”

 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Mac said. “I have no desire to be part of an organization that would like nothing better than to see me dead.”

 

Nikki shrugged, seeming to give up on him just as suddenly as she’d tried to recruit him. “Suit yourself,” she said, and turned to go.

 

That was another strike against her—Mac would never let someone go that easily, and neither would the rest of his team, especially Jack. That was why Mac would choose Jack over Nikki—had chosen Jack over Nikki. Jack stood by him; Nikki hadn’t.

 

Mac watched her go. His emotions were in a turmoil; he wasn’t sure what to think. Anger, betrayal, disgust, all warred within him. He didn’t notice Jack come up behind him until the other man wrapped his arms around Mac’s waist.

 

“You okay, darlin’?” Jack asked.

 

Mac had to think about it. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

 

Jack kissed his head. “This all brought up a lot of old memories, didn’t it?”

 

Mac nodded. “Yeah, it did. Can’t help thinking how it all could have been different, if. . .” he trailed off, trying to find the words to finish the thought. “I don’t even know what if.”

 

Jack sighed. “I know what you mean. Suddenly, everything I ever wanted was in front of me, and I realized I don’t want it anymore.”

 

Mac placed his hand over Jack’s. “Yeah. I thought I knew Nikki, and maybe I did, but it turns out _she_ never knew _me_. She thinks I’m something I’m not. Not like you, Jack. You know who I am, and you accept that.”

 

Jack spun Mac to face him. “Course I do, darlin’. I’d never want you to be anything but the brilliant, quirky kid you are, flaws and everything.” He pressed a quick kiss to Mac’s lips. “I love you just the way you are.”

 

Mac squeezed Jack’s arms. “And I love you. You know that, right?”

 

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I do.” He let Mac go. “Tell you what, let’s go grab a couple of drinks.”

 

“What for?” Mac wanted to know.

 

“For those we thought we knew, and those we thought we wanted, and those who really know us and were right there all along.”

 

Mac could drink to that.

 


	6. Haul Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Haul Away  
> Artist: Kingston Trio  
> Fandom: MacGyver  
> Relationship: Mac/Jack  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard. A similar song, Blow Ye Winds, came up last year, and I wrote Danny and Steve in a storm confessing their love. I had to do something different. I thought about a merman AU, but it just struck me how perfect Mac and Jack on a raft in the middle of the ocean was for one of those episode teasers. This little plot bunny wasn't sure it wanted to be slash, but I convinced it. :)

The storm battered the small raft adrift in the turbulent ocean. Waves crashed over the craft, threatening to capsize it and drenching the two men inside.

 

“This is your bright idea for escape?” The larger one yelled at the other. “Jumping out of a plane on a life raft into the middle of the ocean? I expect better from you, Mac.”

 

“I thought you’d like it, Jack,” Mac shot back. “Isn’t it just like that scene in Temple of Doom?”

 

“Okay, I’ll admit that was cool,” Jack conceded, “but it’s a lot less cool when you’re the one actually doing it, and instead of snow you land in the middle of the ocean, especially when it starts pouring buckets.”

 

“We were in a plane in the middle of nowhere, and they were shooting at us. It was the best I could do,” Mac said. “At least we’re alive.”

 

“Not for long. We’re going to drown,” Jack pointed out.

 

“No, we won’t,” Mac said with more confidence than he felt. “The others will find us.”

 

“How?” Jack wanted to know. “They’ve got no way to track us, unless your tracker’s waterproof. Mine certainly isn’t.” He held up his waterlogged phone. “No one’s finding us with this.” He had a thought. “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if we got microchipped like pets?” Jack brightened slightly at that. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about losing our tracker or them going off line or anything.”

 

“Do you really want Matty to know where you are 24/7?” Mac asked.

 

Jack’s face fell. “Good point.” He got back to the problem at hand. “So, how are we going to get out of this?”

 

“I’m working on it.” Mac wasn’t going to admit he had no clue.

 

“Can’t you rig some sort of sail out of our clothes?” Jack asked.

 

“I thought of that,” Mac said, “but they’re too waterlogged. Besides, they’d just get ripped off by the wind.”

 

“So we just have to wait until the storm stops,” Jack said.

 

“I hate to burst your bubble,” Mac said, “but it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. Beside, we’d still have to wait for them to dry.”

 

“Oh,” Jack said, disappointed. “Isn’t there anything else we can do? Make some sort of signal or something?”

 

“Yeah, we could,” Mac said, “but someone would have to see it, which means someone would have to be looking for us.”

 

“Well, eventually, they’re going to figure out we’re not on that plane,” Jack said.

 

“Yeah, but when’s that going to be?” Mac wanted to know.

 

“Why are you being such a downer, man?” Jack asked. “Usually, I’m the one bitching.”

 

Jack was right. Mac really needed to stop thinking of worst case scenarios and try to find something productive to do. “You’ve got a point about a signal. We can probably rig something up for when it clears, just in case someone comes by.”

 

Jack rubbed his hands together. “Now you’re talking! And what about some kind of radio? You’ve done that before.”

 

“It won’t work with our electronics wet,” Mac said. Jack started to say something, but Mac held up a hand to cut him off. “But, I can see what I can do for when the storm lets up. Give me your phone.” He held out his hand to Jack.

 

“Why does it always have to be my phone?” Jack whined. “Why can’t you use your phone for a change?” Mac just raised an eyebrow and stared at Jack until the older man handed it over. “Fine, but this better work.”

 

“It will,” Mac said. Truthfully, though, he wasn’t sure it would. Yeah, once the storm stopped and everything dried, he was sure they could reach someone—after all, it had worked in Antarctica—but there was a good chance they’d capsize before then. He didn’t want to say it, though. As Jack had pointed out, he was already being enough of a doomsayer.

 

The two men were silent while Mac did his best to cobble something together. It was hard with the rocking and the waves crashing over the raft threatening to wash all their gear—and them—overboard. He almost had it when a particularly tall wave knocked him backward, ripping the makeshift radio out of his hands. “Shit,” Mac cursed. “That was our best chance.”

 

“Great, we’re going to die,” Jack groused. “So, I guess this is where I say I love you.”

 

Mac really wished Jack would quit saying that, especially since it would never mean what Mac wanted to. “Don’t,” Mac said.

 

“Don’t what?” Jack asked.

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

“Why not?” Jack wanted to know.

 

“Because it’s not true,” Mac snapped.

 

“Of course it is, brother. Don’t you believe I love you?” Jack said.

 

That was the problem. Brother. Mac did believe Jack, believed that was _exactly_ how Jack meant it. Mac let his anger deflate. “I’m sorry. Of course I believe you. It’s just. . .” Mac trailed off. He didn’t need to—shouldn’t—give voice to the rest of the thought.

 

Unfortunately, Jack caught Mac’s hesitation. “Just what?”

 

Mac shut his emotions down, fast. No way was he going to let on to Jack he was hopelessly in love with the other man. “Nothing. You love me like a brother. End of story.” Mac’s voice was clipped, and he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. Hopefully, Jack wouldn’t pick up on it.

 

No such luck. Dammit, Mac sometimes forgot just how perceptive Jack could be. “How do you want me to love you?” the older man asked, carefully.

 

Mac had had it. “Not like a brother!” he shouted. Mac tried to pull himself together. “It doesn’t matter anyway. That’s how you see me, how you always will.” Yeah, that didn’t sound bitter at all. Way to hide your feelings, Mac.

 

“What if that isn’t how I see you?” Jack asked softly, so softly Mac could barely hear him over the storm, so softly Mac wasn’t sure he’d heard the other man right.

 

“How do you see me?” Mac asked, hardly daring to hope.

 

“Not like a brother,” Jack said, parroting Mac’s earlier words. Jack took a deep breath, seeming to gather his courage. “To be honest, Mac, I’m in love with you. Have been for years.”

 

Mac couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re kidding, right?”

 

Jack was all seriousness. “I wouldn’t kid about this.” Mac was silent, still digesting this revelation. Jack looked nervous. “Hey, man, either hit me or kiss me, but let me know what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

 

Mac didn’t need any further urging. He launched himself at Jack, throwing him backward onto the bottom of the raft, setting it rocking precariously. Mac didn’t care. All he was aware of was the feel of Jack’s lips as they met his own, rough, chapped, but so much better than anything Mac had ever dreamed of. Jack parted his lips, and Mac eagerly took advantage of the opening. He darted his tongue into Jack’s mouth, reveling in the wet heat.

 

A wave crashed over them, and the men broke apart, spluttering.

 

“Okay, maybe this was a bad place for love confessions,” Jack said, sitting up.

 

Mac reluctantly climbed off Jack’s lap. “Yeah, probably.” He looked at the sky. “Hey, I think the storm’s letting up.

 

“Finally!” Jack said. “We can’t rig a radio, but we can still make some kind of signal, right?”

 

“Yeah, definitely.” Mac looked around. “I think this raft has a light. We just need something reflective to amplify it.”

 

Jack also looked around. “Like what? There’s not much here.”

 

“Something metal and flat.”

 

“I don’t see. . .Wait a sec.” Jack dug into his boot and pulled out a decent-sized knife. “Will this work?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect,” Mac said. He held the knife to the light and angled them both until a beam cut across the sky. “Yes!”

 

“Hey, look at that,” Jack said. He slapped Mac on the back, nearly sending the smaller man overboard. “You did it, kid!”

 

“Yeah, now we just have to wait for someone to find us,” Mac said.

 

“They will,” Jack said.

 

“It could be a while,” Mac warned.

 

“Hey, the storm’s letting up, I’ve got you right here, what more could a guy want?” Jack patted the bottom of the boat next to him, and Mac sat down, snuggling into the older man. Jack wrapped his arm tightly around Mac, holding him close and planting a kiss on the top of his blond head.

 

“Well, I could use dry clothes and a bed,” Mac quipped.

 

“What, I’m not enough for you?” Jack asked, mock-wounded.

 

Mac gave him a quick kiss. “Well, in the meantime, you’ll do.”

 

“You better believe it,” Jack said.

 

Together, they waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not at all satisfied with the ending, but I couldn't think of anything better. Oh, well.


	7. South Australia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: South Australia  
> Artist: Molly’s Revenge  
> Fandom: Hawaii Five-0  
> Relationship: McDanno  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a traditional sea chanty. This version is by a regional folk band.
> 
> This was another really hard one. I couldn't really follow the storyline in the lyrics, so I cast my mind out. The hardest part was getting either cast to Australia; a little easier for MacGyver, but the only plot I came up with for them was Jack ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the wildlife--cute, but pointless, especially after With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm. And, I really wanted to do McDanno. So, I thought of Steve getting hurt in the Outback, and decided a honeymoon was the best way to get them there (plus, I got to work in some McDanno :) ).
> 
> Also includes the prompt "This is my life now. I have climbed this hill and now I will die upon it." "Shut up. We've only been hiking for 20 minutes."
> 
> Information on Ayers Rock from https://www.ayersrockresort.com.au/uluru-and-kata-tjuta/uluru-and-kata-tjuta-national-park/uluru-and-kata-tjuta
> 
> I know it's not in South Australia. The song's just a guideline, okay? :)

“This is my life now.  I have climbed this hill, and now I will die upon it,” Danny announced dramatically, stopping in the middle of the path.

Steve was forced to stop, too.  “Danny, you’re not going to die,” he said, exasperated, but there was a note of fondness in his voice.  It was hard to be truly upset with his husband.  Besides, Steve knew the dramatics were just Danny’s way.  

“So says you,” Danny said.  “How do you know?  I could drop dead from overexertion any minute.”

“Quit being so dramatic,” Steve said.  “We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Danny said.  “It seems like it’s been hours.”

“Yep, I’m sure,” Steve said.

“How much longer is it going to be?” Danny asked.

“Probably close to another three hours,” Steve told him.

“Three hours?  I’m definitely going to die,” Danny whined.

“Nah, you’ll make it.  I have confidence in you,” Steve said with conviction.  Danny was in good shape; he wasn’t going to have problems with a 3 ½ hour hike, even if it was rated moderate.

“How did I let you talk me into this?” Danny wanted to know.  “I hate hiking.”

Steve didn’t let the complaining bother him.  If Danny was truly worried, he wouldn’t have agreed to the hike in the first place.  “It was our agreement.  Two-week honeymoon in Australia.  I get to pick what we do the first week, you get to pick what we do the second week.”

“I never would have agreed if I knew this was what you’d subject me to,” Danny grumbled, but there was no heat to his words.  He had to know Steve would pick outdoor activities, just like Steve knew Danny would stay in the city.  It was just the way they were.

Steve spread his arms to encompass the entire scene.  “Come on, you can’t say the view isn’t fantastic.”

Danny craned his neck up to get a good look at Ayers Rock, towering over a thousand feet above them.  He had to admit the red sandstone monolith was impressive, not that he would tell Steve that.  “I’m surprised you don’t want to climb it,” Danny remarked.

“I’d love to,” Steve said, “but it’s forbidden.”

Danny gestured to the top.  “Then why are there people up there?”

“Not by the park service,” Steve said, “by the Anangu.  Uluru is sacred.  It should only be climbed as part of important ceremonies.  Plus, the Anangu take personal responsibility for visitors.  They feel great sadness if visitors get hurt.”

“The who and the what?” Danny asked, wrinkling his nose as the strange words.

Steve sighed.  When would Danny learn not to make fun of other cultures.  “The aborginals and the rock.”

“I thought it was called Ayers Rock,” Danny said.

“Uluru is what the natives call it.  This is all aboriginal land, and they take their responsibilities very seriously,” Steve explained.

“Sounds like a certain SuperSEAL I know,” Danny remarked.  It was true—Steve put way too much responsibility for the welfare of others on his shoulders.  But that was one of the things Danny loved about him.

They walked in silence for a while, Steve soaking up the spirituality of his surroundings, Danny no doubt working up a litany of complaints to unleash on Steve when they were back at the resort.  The hike took most of their attention—it wasn’t extremely hard going, but it wasn’t a walk in the park, either, and the terrain wasn’t always smooth.

Danny stopped on a slight incline, one of the rougher patches of the trail.  “Wait up a sec, Steve.”  He bent over and put his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily.  Danny was in decent shape, but he wasn’t a SuperSEAL.

Steve turned to look at his husband.  He started to say something, but he rotated wrong and took a misstep on a rock, twisting his ankle unnaturally and going down.  “Fuck!” he cursed as pain shot up his leg.

Danny was immediately at Steve’s side.  “You okay?” the blond asked.

Steve gingerly rotated his leg.  It hurt like hell, but he could move it.  The SEAL decided it probably wasn’t broken.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  He reached a hand out to Danny.  “Help me up, would you?”

Danny grasped the extended hand, and together they got Steve to his feet.  The SEAL gingerly tried to put weight on his injured foot and was rewarded with another intense jolt of pain.  “Fuck!” he said again.

Danny quickly moved to Steve’s injured side and put the taller man’s arm over his shoulder, taking as much weight as he could.  “This is not good.  I don’t think you’re getting back to the cultural center on your own power.”

“Sure I am,” Steve insisted.  “You’ll just have to help me.”

“Steven, I am not half-carrying you back!  I love you, but not that much,” Danny said, a teasing note in his voice, obviously trying to lighten Steve’s spirits.

Steve smiled as much as he could through the pain.  “You did say in sickness and in health,” he pointed out.

“This isn’t sickness, this is stupidity,” Danny groused, good-naturedly.  “I can’t take you anywhere without you doing something reckless or getting injured.”

“At least there’s not a body this time,” Steve pointed out.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Danny demanded.  “Because it doesn’t.”

One of the other tourists on the trail stopped.  “Can I help?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said.  “Can you go back to the center and ask them to send somebody?”

“Sure thing,” the man said, jogging off to the center.

“It’ll be a couple of hours,” Danny said.  “We might as well get comfortable while we wait.”  He lowered Steve to the ground as gently as he could, but the SEAL still let out a grunt of pain.  “Sorry.”  Danny sat down beside Steve and opened their backpack.  He pulled out sandwiches and water.  “Might as well make a picnic of it.”

Danny kept up a running commentary on anything and nothing, spending a considerable amount of time on Steve’s propensity for attracting trouble wherever he went.  Steve just let it wash over him, taking comfort in the familiar voice of his husband.

Steve didn’t know how long it was before an ATV pulled up, and a ranger hopped out.  He approached Steve.  “I understand you have a leg injury,” he said.

Steve started to his feet, but gave up and sat back down when Danny glared at him.  “Yeah.  It’s not broken, though.  I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny was incredulous.  “Are you kidding me?!?  Steven, you can’t put any weight on it.”

The ranger ignored their bickering.  “Let me take a look.”  He poked and prodded at Steve’s ankle.  Steve stoically endured it, but he couldn’t help a hiss of pain as the ranger touched a particularly sensitive spot.  “You’re right,” the ranger said.  “It’s not broken, but it’s pretty swollen and painful.  I think it’s highly possible you tore a ligament.”

Danny winced in sympathy.  He knew all about that, thanks to his ACL.  “Let’s get him back to the center, then I promise I’ll get him to a hospital to get it looked at.”

“Danny, I’m. . .” Steve started, only to be cut off by his husband.

“Do not say you’re fine, Steven.  You are most definitely not fine.  You _will_ see a doctor, or, so help me god, I will divorce you before the ink’s even dry on our marriage certificate,” Danny said, adamantly.

Steve knew better than to argue when Danny used that voice.  “Yes, Danny,” he said, meekly.

The ranger splinted Steve’s leg and got him ready for transport.  “Okay, let’s get you up on the ATV.”  Together, Danny and the ranger managed to lift Steve into place.

“I’m afraid I don’t have room for you,” the ranger said, apologetically.

“That’s okay,” Danny said.  “I’ll wake back.”  As long as he knew Steve was in good hands, Danny didn’t mind.

The ranger nodded and mounted the vehicle.  As he started to pull out, Danny yelled at them.  “Steve!”

Steve turned to face him.  “Yeah?”

Instead of replying, Danny motioned to himself, made a heart in the air, and pointed to Steve, just like he’d done all those years ago when Steve had to be airlifted out during their disastrous trip to the petroglyphs.

This time, Steve had no doubt what it meant.

 


	8. Snoopy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Snoopy  
> Artist: You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown  
> Fandom: Hawaii Five-0  
> Relationship: McDanno  
> Rating: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously considered making this a pet fic, but decided to focus on the feeling of contentment evoked by the song. It could easily have been either Steve/Danny or Mac/Jack, but Steve/Danny was more iconic. Plus, Hawaii is a prettier setting. :)

Danny stretched his legs in front of him, enjoying the sand between his bare toes (okay, fine, he admitted it, after all these years maybe, just maybe, he could admit that sand felt good. Sometimes. Only sometimes. And definitely not in inappropriate places). What a beautiful day. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the sun was shining (well, it always did in Hawaii, but it seemed particularly bright and cheerful today). Its rays glinted off the water, backlighting the two figures in the shallows—his wonderful children. Danny watched Grace play with Charlie in the waves, splashing and laughing and wrestling with each other. Grace was in college now (in Hawaii, thank goodness; Danny didn’t know what he would have done if she’d gone back to the mainland. She was too old for him to follow her halfway across the world, again, and, surprisingly, he didn’t want to leave. He had ohana here, and, more importantly, he had Steve. Thank goodness University of Hawaii had one of the top marine biology programs in the country). Charlie was getting so big and was starting to lose that wide-eyed, childish innocence (but, fortunately, not old enough to have discovered girls). Today, though, they had forgotten themselves in the sheer joy of being in the water. Danny’s heart swelled. There was just one thing missing to make this the perfect scene.

That something came up behind Danny and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “You look deep in thought. What are you thinking about?” Steve asked.

Danny took the beer his husband offered. “Not much,” he said as Steve settled in the chair next to him. “Just how nice this is.”

Steve followed Danny’s line of sight to the kids playing in the wave. “Yeah. It’s nice to see them getting along.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. You’d never guess they fight like cats and dogs most of the time.”

Steve chuckled. “Mary and I always fought. I think it’s part of being siblings.”

“Oh, yeah. The four of us would get in fights all the time, especially me and Matty. I don’t know how my folks did it. It’s hard enough with two. I can’t imagine four,” Danny said.

“You’ve done a wonderful job with them,” Steve commented.

“They’re good kids,” Danny said. “And I had help—Rachel, the team, you.”

“Me? I haven’t done anything,” Steve protested.

Danny laid a hand on Steve’s arm and looked him in the eye. “You’re as much their father as I am,” he said, seriously. “You’ve been there when they’re sick, you’ve been there through Grace’s break-ups, you’ve been there for their school plays, you’ve coached their teams, you were at Grace’s graduation. You’re as much a part of the family as Step-Stan.”

Steve’s eyes were watery, but he tried to make light of the situation. “I’m not sure comparing me to Step-Stan is flattering,” he said.

“You’re right,” Danny acknowledged, still serious. “You’re not Step-Steve. You’re Dad.”

Danny could tell Steve really hadn’t thought about that. Danny remembered how flattered his husband had been when Charlie called him Dad for the first time, even before they got married, and Grace followed suit, but after that, it had just become normal. Danny didn’t think it had ever occurred to Steve Step-Steve would be more in line with what Grace called Stan. Or even just sticking with Uncle Steve.

The kids came running up just then, Grace chasing after a squealing Charlie. She tackled him just as they reached Danny and Steve. Danny had to smile at his usually oh-so-suave and together daughter racing after her kid brother like a much younger child. Really, siblings never changed.

“Let me up!” Charlie begged.

“Grace, let him up,” Danny said. He tried to be stern, but he was pretty sure he failed.

Grace reluctantly rolled off her brother, still laughing. “Spoilsport.” She stuck her tongue out at Danny.

Yep, acting like a six-year-old. Danny was glad she could still act like that sometimes—he didn’t want to see her be too sober and overwhelmed with the burden of adulthood. She was still too young to deal with that. Heck, even he and Steve would let themselves go every once in a while—they’d had their share of water fights, too.

Charlie picked himself up. He was covered with sand. Danny made a face. There’d be tons of sand in the drain. Oh, well. The hazards of living in Hawaii. Danny just couldn’t find it in himself to be as upset as he would have been when he first came to the island.

“What’s for dinner, dads?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, dads, what’s for dinner?” Grace echoed.

“Your Uncle Lou landed a big one on his last fishing trip. We’ve got fresh ahi.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “Is he coming to share it with us?”

“Sure is,” Steve confirmed. “He and the team should be here soon, so go wash up.”

The kids raced up to the house, but Steve and Danny lingered on the beach. “This is the life,” Steve said.

“It’s not bad,” Danny said, but he couldn’t hide the joy he felt. “Not bad at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expected this to be 300-500 words, but it decided to be longer, to my surprise. Not complaining. :)


	9. Back When I Could Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Back When I Could Fly  
> Artist: Trout Fishing in America  
> Fandom: MacGyver  
> Relationship: Mac/Jack  
> Series: Guardian  
> Rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This is part of my Guardian series, but I tried to include enough background for it to be read as a standalone. See end for a brief explanation of the verse.
> 
> Warning: Angst, and not a particularly happy ending, although no character death.
> 
> This is another one I had planned in advance, and I think it's really good, but I didn't want to write it because it's sad. :(

“Higher, Daddy Mac! Throw them higher!” Connor yelled as he flew up level with the roof, easily snatching the ball Mac had launched from the ground.

Mac obliged, adjusting the angle of the canon he’d made to shoot balls for the young Guardian to catch.

Jack watched his son and husband play, wishing he could join in. He should be the one teaching Connor to catch airborne objects; Mac shouldn’t have to fire them from the ground. Jack was the Guardian. He was the one tasked with protecting Mac and Connor. He was the one who should be grooming Connor to take his place as one of the men and women born to watch over others like Guardian Angels in mortal form. But then, Jack was no longer a Guardian, was he? Just a useless hulk.

The LA sun glanced off Connor’s chestnut wings. So much like his own, Jack thought from his seat on the deck. So much like they used to be, anyway.

Jack’s back twinged as it so often did when he thought about his wings. Even after five years, he still felt the pain. Phantom pain, the doctors had called it, but it felt all too real to Jack. The damage done by the flames that had taken his wings had healed, the doctors told him, as much as it would, anyway; scars still littered Jack’s back and always would, but the nerves had regenerated, and there shouldn’t be any pain. There was, though, phantom or not, and even if there wasn’t, the emotional pain would never heal.

Jack had slipped into a dark place after his wings had been burned away, frightening Mac and Connor. They feared they’d lost him forever, and maybe they would have if they hadn’t been so persistent. It was the sight of Connor bawling when Jack snapped at the child for asking his father to fly with him that made Jack realize he was hurting his family. That’s when he knew he had to climb out and try to regain some sense of normalcy.

There were still some days, though, days like today when his son swooped back and forth across the sky, that the memories threatened to drown him again.

Jack thought back on the incident that cost him his wings. It was burned in his mind (hah, that was ironic, given that his wings had been burned off), as vivid as the day it happened.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was Murdoc who’d done it. Of course it was. Just as Jack was a Guardian tasked with protecting his family, Murdoc was a Tormentor tasked with destroying them. Since Mac, Jack, and Connor seemed marked for greater things by the Powers That Be, those mysterious beings who controlled both the Tormentors and the Guardians, the Tormentors were especially persistent. Murdoc was knows as the best, the most vicious, the most ruthless, so of course he had been assigned the job.

Jack was not expecting any trouble when he went to pick Connor up from daycare that day. He was certainly not expecting to be told that Connor’s “uncle” had just picked him up.

A feeling of dread swept over Jack, but he told himself not to overreact. “Uncle” Bozer was authorized to pick up Connor and sometimes did if both Mac and Jack were busy. It was possible Mac had sent the other man to pick up Connor, forgetting it was Jack’s turn. Jack didn’t think so, but he clung to the hope as long as he could. “Black man? Talkative? Doesn’t know when to shut up?”

The receptionist shook her head. 

The feeling of dread grew. “No one else is authorized to pick up Connor,” Jack growled.

“He had a note,” the receptionist defended herself.

Jack sure as hell hadn’t written one, and he was pretty sure Mac hadn’t either. They only trusted a few people to pick up Connor, and that list was limited to Riley, Bozer, and Matty. “Let me see this note.”

The receptionist passed it over. Sure enough, at the bottom was Jack Dalton with a signature that looked a lot like his. But. . .”That’s not my signature,” Jack said.

“But we checked,” she protested. “It matched.”

“It’s a very good copy,” Jack conceded, “But it’s not mine.”

Whoever had taken Connor had gone through a great deal of trouble. Jack was afraid he knew who it was. He flipped through his phone and pulled up the watchlist picture. It was a face burned into his brain, one he desperately hoped had not conned his way into getting his hands on Connor.

No such luck. “Yes, that’s him,” the receptionist confirmed.

Jack went cold. Murdoc. Murdoc had their son.

He wanted to yell at the receptionist—no, he wanted to kill the receptionist, but he wouldn’t because killing innocents was against the Guardians’ code—and his own. That wouldn’t solve anything, anyway, and it would just waste valuable time, time they didn’t have if they wanted to save Connor from Murdoc.

Jack whipped out his phone and hit the speed dial for Mac. “Murdoc has Connor,” the Guardian said without preamble. “I’m going after him.”

“Whoa, slow down,” Mac said. “What happened?”

“Murdoc conned the daycare into releasing Connor to him,” Jack explained. “They just left. I can catch them before anything happens to Connor.”

“How are you going to do that?” Mac wanted to know. “You have no idea where they went. Besides, Murdoc probably took Connor through the aether. You’ve said yourself it’s practically impossible to track someone through that.”

“He’s my son,” Jack said. “We’re bonded. I’ll always be able to find him.”

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” Mac ordered.

“Mac, that could be too late,” Jack said. “Murdoc could kill Connor.”

“He’s more likely to wait to get us, too,” Mac said. “He has to know we’ll come after Connor.”

Mac was probably right, but Jack couldn’t wait, and he couldn’t let Mac get hurt, too. “You’re a liability,” Jack said. “I’m going now, alone.” With that, he hung up on his husband. Jack knew he’d probably hurt Mac, betrayed their partnership, possibly done irreparable damage to their relationship, but he wasn’t going to risk the other person that meant the world to him. If Jack was rushing to his death, he’d do it alone. He pushed down the part that reminded him he’d promised Mac they’d go out together. Jack wasn’t going to let Murdoc get Mac, too.

Jack ducked behind the daycare where no one would notice the wings stretching out to either side or see him vanish into thin air. He closed his eyes and focused inwards, drawing on his connection to Connor. At first, he couldn’t find it, and he panicked, afraid Murdoc had already killed the boy. Then he found it, steady and strong, a beacon guiding him to wherever Murdoc was holding Connor.

Jack popped into a large, empty barn. At first, he didn’t see Murdoc and Connor. Then, a voice addressed the Guardian, echoing through the empty space, coming from above.

“Well, well, well,” an all too familiar voice boomed out. “If it isn’t my friend Jackie-boy. Where’s your little sidekick?”

Jack looked up to see Murdoc perched on one of the rafter beams, swinging his legs as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Connor on his lap.

“Daddy Jack!” Connor wailed. “I want to go home!” The child stretched out his arms to his father. Jack was horrified to realize the boy’s wings were bound tightly to his body.

“Give me back my son,” Jack snarled.

Murdoc tilted his head, pretending to think about it. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll make you come and get him. That will be so much more fun.”

Jack didn’t waste his breath trying to argue with the psychopath. He launched himself into the air, angling towards the Tormentor holding his son.

“A frontal attack? Oh, how boring. I expected better of you, Jack,” Murdoc said calmly as he loosed a burst of flame at Jack.

Jack countered with an energy burst of his own. It met the jet of flame and pushed it back, but it dissipated before it reached Murdoc.

“Daddy Jack!” Connor sobbed, reaching once more for his father.

Jack watched in horror as Connor tilted forward. Murdoc made no move to grab the child, and Connor tumbled off the beam and plunged towards the ground.

Immediately forgetting about Murdoc, Jack dove for Connor, grabbing him just a few feet above the ground. The Guardian cradled his son to his chest as they crashed to the earth, cushioning the boy from the impact.

Murdoc let loose another jet of fire. Jack felt it tear into him, causing his wings to burst into flame. Pain seared through him, clouding his mind, making it hard to think of anything else. Jack pushed it away, focusing on getting him and Connor out of there.

“Daddy Jack, you’re on fire!” Connor screamed.

“It’ll be fine,” Jack ground out, gritting his teeth against the agony coursing through his body. “Let’s go home.”

Jack felt another wave of pain crash over him as a second stream of flame hit him. He couldn’t hold back his scream. His vision was graying. Jack gathered the last of his energy and sent himself and Connor hurtling into the aether. Then, he blacked out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack learned later it took them six hours to find him and Connor. They’d probably still be there if it weren’t for Mac’s bond with both of them. The Guardian was in a medically induced coma for five days, during which Mac never left his side.

When Jack came to, it was to the feeling of his back being on fire. He panicked, remembering the attack by Murdoc and fearing the flames were still consuming him. Jack fought against the tubes and wires constraining him.

A comforting hand rest on his chest. “Easy, Jack, you’re okay,” a voice said. Jack recognized the Mac’s voice and relaxed slightly.

Then, Jack remembered Connor, and the Guardian went back to fighting the tubes. “Murdoc! Connor! Where are they?”

The hand gently pressed him back. “Connor’s fine,” Mac said. “Riley and Bozer are watching him.”

“Murdoc?”

Anger flashed across Mac’s face. “He got away. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get him.”

Jack struggled to remember all that had happened—the barn, the flames, Connor falling. It was only flashes; he couldn’t string it together into a cohesive whole. “What happened?”

Mac looked sad. “Murdoc set your wings on fire. You got you and Connor out of there, but your wings were burned beyond repair. They had to remove them.”

The news was almost as painful as the physical attack. “No!” Jack wailed. 

“I’m sorry,” Mac said.

Jack lashed out at the nearest person, who happened to be Mac. “What do you know? You’re not a Guardian. You’ve never lost your wings! They’re who I am! Without them, I’m nothing!”

Mac looked shocked at the force of the outburst. “No, Jack, that’s not true! You’re still you. You’re still a good agent. You’ll still look after Connor and me.”

Jack would not be comforted. “Not without my wings.”

That started the downward spiral. Jack gave up caring. He shut out his friends, his family. Somedays, he wished he were dead; only the thought of what it would do to Connor and Mac kept him going. He was a shell of his former self. He was slipping away.

It took him a year to come out of it. When he did, he was horrified of the pain he’d caused his family and vowed never to do that to them again. It took lots of therapy—Jack was seeing a therapist to this day—but eventually, he was almost back to his normal self. But not always.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack was brought back to himself by Connor running towards him, wings tucked away, no longer reminding Jack of the time when, like Connor, he soared through the sky. 

“Did you see how high I got?” Connor asked, eagerly.

Jack scooped his son into a hug. “I did. You’re getting really good at catching things.”

Connor preened at the praise. “I am, aren’t I? Daddy Mac says so, too.”

“Is that so?” Jack smiled at Mac as the other man joined the two of them on the porch.

“He sure is,” Mac confirmed.

Jack turned back to Connor. “I think that deserves a reward. How about some ice cream, buddy?”

Connor’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

“Well, let’s go then,” Jack said. “I think there’s some chocolate in the freezer.”

“My favorite!”

“Mine, too,” Jack said.

“Mine three,” Mac chimed in.

Jack took Connor’s hand and led him into the house, Mac trailing behind. His life wasn’t what it used to be, never would be again, but, today at least, life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick recap:
> 
> Guardians are winged humans who look after people and communities. Not all of them are assigned to an individual like Jack is to Mac; in fact, very few are. Most are first responders or military or medical personnel looking after the people under their care. That's what Jack did with his Delta unit before he met Mac.
> 
> Guardian reveals the Powers that Be have plans for Mac and Jack. Future Perfect implies those plans include Connor, who is Mac and Jack's biological son. In this verse, rare male Guardians can get pregnant to preserve the line (Guardians are born).
> 
> The Powers that Be are those mysterious, not necessarily benevolent, powers that control the Guardians. They're like the Greek gods, and they're not necessarily always in agreement.
> 
> This version introduces the Tormentors, also controlled by the Powers that Be. It's not necessarily a good group of Powers that Be vs. an evil group--they don't really have a concept of that. It's more a matter of balance.
> 
> I've juiced things up considerably--in the original, Jack has wings which offer some protection and is considerably harder to injure and kill, but that's about it. Also, this is more good vs. evil whereas the original is more family-oriented.
> 
> I may continue this juiced up, superhero-esque version. We'll see.
> 
> Let me know if you have any questions!


	10. Where Did We Go Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Where Did We Go Right?  
> Artist: The Producers  
> Fandom: Hawaii Five-0  
> Relationship: McDanno if you really want it to be. Otherwise, none  
> Rating: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another hard one. I knew I wanted it to be H50 to make it 5 stores of each, which was at least a start. From there, I got the idea of a school play with Grace or Charlie. That morphed into Steve and Danny actually directing it, which led to this lengthy piece of fluff. Well, it's a nice change from the last chapter!

“I can’t! It’s too hard!” the Munchkin (literally; this was The Wizard of Oz, after all) sobbed.

 

Steve crossed the stage in several long strides and stood in front of the assembled Munchkins. Only one of them was actually crying, but several others looked on the verge of it and several looked frankly terrified. “What’s going on here?” he barked in his best Lt. Commander voice.

 

The Munchkin only sobbed harder. The number of terrified faces increased. Okay, clearly, that was the wrong thing to say.

 

Even after over years of being Danny’s partner and being thrust into his kids’ lives, Steve still didn’t know what to do with a crying kid. He awkwardly patted the kid on the head. “There, there, it’s okay. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he said in a softer voice.

 

“She sssaid IIII cccccouldn’t be a Munchkin if I ccccccouldn’t dddddance!” the little boy got out between sobs.

 

“Who said?” Steve asked, afraid he knew the answer.

 

The Munchkin pointed behind Steve. “She did!”

 

Steve turned slowly, fairly certain who he would see. Sure enough, there was Grace, hands on hip, stormy expression in place. Not again. Steve had already had this conversation with her at least twice. He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Grace, did you tell them they couldn’t be in the play if they couldn’t dance?”

 

“Yes,” Grace said.

 

Steve counted to five so he (hopefully) wouldn’t yell at her. “This is community theatre, Grace, you can’t kick them out.”

 

“But they’re ruining it!” Grace wailed. “If they’re going to do this, they should get it right!”

 

“Maybe it’s too complicated,” Steve suggested. Grace had already simplified it twice. She just couldn’t seem to understand a group of elementary school kids weren’t her cheer squad.

 

“I’ve made it as simple as I can,” Grace said. “It’s just a couple of grapevines, a pivot, and a kick.”

 

Steve looked at her blankly. “A what and a what?” He shook his head to clear it. “Never mind. Maybe you should stick to forward and back, and maybe skipping in a circle if you want to be really adventurous.”

 

“That’s so boring,” Grace pouted. “Don’t you want the dancing to look snazzy?”

 

“Grace, they’re six,” Steve said. “Let’s stick to them not tripping over each other.”

 

“Hey, I’m eight!” one of the Munchkins protested. Several others chimed in along the same lines.

 

Steve waved his hand in dismissal. “Maybe you can try those whoosy-whatsits with the Jitterbugs. They’re older.”

 

“Grapevines, Uncle Steve,” Grace said. “They’re called grapevines.”

 

“Whatever,” Steve said. “Just save it for the older kids.”

 

“Fine,” Grace said, sulkily. “I’ll rewrite it, _again_.”

 

“Good.” Steve looked down at the Munchkin, who was now merely sniffling. “There, see? Nobody’s going to kick you out.”

 

“Promise?” the kid asked, looking up at Steve with wide eyes.

 

“Promise,” Steve said, solemnly.

 

The kid seemed to accept this. He gave a last sniff and drew his sleeve across his face. Steve tried not to shudder. “Okay.”

 

“Great.” Steve looked around. Grace had gone off to corral the Jitterbugs, Danny was talking to the Wizard about something, and Steve was left to contend with a dozen Munchkins who were now milling about aimlessly. “Okay, let’s skip the dance for now. Let’s work on Glinda’s entrance. Glinda!” Steve called, catching her attention from where she was standing in the wings.

 

“Yes, Commander!” the teenage girl called back. She roller-skated over. And whose bright idea was it to put Glinda the Good on roller-skates, anyway? Whoever wrote the original script must have been insane. Or, at least not working with a bunch of kids.

 

Glinda skidded to a stop in front of Steve. Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough, and she plowed into the Munchkin, who immediately  burst into tears again. Steve bent down to his level. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Are you hurt?”

 

The boy shook his head. “Nnnoooo.”

 

“The brat may not be,” Glinda snapped, “but I am. I twisted my knee.”

 

“We do not call our fellow actors brats,” Steve scolded her.

 

Glinda sniffed. “Well, they’re certainly not actors. They’re just a bunch of screaming kids.”

 

“That’s enough,” Steve snapped. He gently extended Glinda’s knee and examined it. She hissed in pain. It was already swelling. “Okay, I’ll put an ace bandage on it, but you should probably get it looked at.” 

 

“Am I going to be able to be Glinda?” the girl asked, worriedly.

 

“Probably not,” Steve said, honestly.

 

“But this is my big chance!” she wailed. “How am I going to star on Broadway if I can’t even star in a summer camp production of Wizard of Oz?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t think it will hurt your chances,” Steve said. Okay, that was a little harsher than he intended, but he was fed up with her teenage histrionics.

 

Steve called his partner over. “Danny!”

 

The blond said something to the Wizard and appeared at Steve’s side. “What’s up?”

 

“Glinda twisted her knee,” Steve explained. “I need to get an ace bandage and call her parents. Can you take the Munchkins?”

 

Fortunately, Danny was much better with kids than Steve and took it in stride. “Sure. We can go help Tani tie-dye their costumes.”

 

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. If he’d been presented with a group of six to eight year-olds and told to entertain them, he probably would have stared at them blankly, them staring right back, until their parents came to get them, which—Steve checked his watch—wasn’t for another hour and a half. He groaned. How did he let himself get talked into this, anyway?

 

Steve voiced as much to Danny when the SEAL joined the detective a few minutes later. Glinda’s knee was wrapped, and she’d been sent home with her parents, teary-eyed over the loss of her Broadway career. The parents had accosted Steve, demanding to know how he could let this happen to their precious little girl, but he gave them his best Lt. Commander glare, and they backed down.

 

Danny tore his attention away from where he was helping supervise the tie-dying. “The Governor said Five-0 needed to be more involved in the community.”

 

“I know,” Steve said, “but why did it have to be _this_?” He waved his hand at the chaos around them.

 

“Because the woman who usually directs the summer theatre program ended up in the hospital with pneumonia,” Danny said. “Somebody had to take over.”

 

“But why us?” Steve asked, not for the first time. This had been a recurring discussion since Danny had volunteered them to take over the annual children’s production, this year, The Wizard of Oz. Why Danny thought trying to transform a bunch of six to 18 year-olds into thespians was a good fit was beyond him.

 

Danny sighed. “Because Gracie and Charlie came to me and said there was no one else to do it, and there wouldn’t be a production if somebody didn’t step forward.”

 

“Oh, right.” Steve knew Danny couldn’t refuse his kids when they turned on the puppy dog eyes, and, quite frankly, neither could Steve. Which meant here they were, trying to pull off an all-kids production of The Wizard of Oz in a month. Well, at this point, in a week. Without a Glinda.

 

“So, where are we going to get another Glinda?” Steve asked.

 

Danny sighed. “Grace would love to do it, but I’d hate to make it seem like we were rewarding her for terrorizing the kids. Still, I don’t see another choice. Heather can take over the choreography.”

 

Heather? It took Steve a minute to place the name. Oh, right, Glinda. Steve vaguely remembered she was on Grace’s cheer squad. “As long as she doesn’t try to make the Munchkins do those grape-thingys, we should be fine.”

 

“Grapevines,” Danny corrected. Did everybody know what they were except Steve? The detective clapped his partner on the back. “And don’t worry. It’s going to be great.”

 

Steve wasn’t sure he believed Danny.

 

A week later, Steve was proven wrong. He stood in the wings on opening night, surveying the scene. It had all come together. The sets, under Nahele’s direction, were excellent—you couldn’t tell they were made by a bunch of teens. Tani had done a great job whipping up simple but good-looking costumes. Even the Munchkins could now get through their dance without anybody tripping, though it had taken two more revisions and a lot more tears—Heather, if it were possible, was even worse than Grace with the Munchkins.

 

The curtain went up, and the show went off without a hitch—no missed lines, no wardrobe malfunctions, no falling scenery. Perfect. Steve couldn’t  have asked for better. He watched, amazed, as the audience (mostly parents, who, granted, were not the most critical audience) gave the kids a standing ovation.

 

Danny came up beside Steve and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What did I tell you, buddy? It all worked out.”

 

“Yeah, it did,” Steve replied. Well, what do you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another year has come to an end. Hope you enjoyed! See you next year!
> 
> Which was your favorite? Least favorite?
> 
> My favorite's a tie between Lover's Cross and Back When I Had Wings. My least favorite is With Her Head Tucked Underneath her arm because there's just not much to it.


End file.
